


Break A Leg

by virgilsjourney (jenna221b)



Series: Learning & Loving [10]
Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Flirting, Gift Giving, M/M, Nervous Roman, Nervous Virgil, Pre-Relationship, Shyness, Theatre, Wicked - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 12:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12343062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenna221b/pseuds/virgilsjourney
Summary: But Virgil has only one goal in mind right now. “Rachel,” he half-begs, while Logan goes into some state of shock next to him. “Can- can I talk to you?”Her eyebrows raise. “Sure thing.” She beckons him to the side, and he takes a deep breath, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to bring out the box.“I just- it’s- it’s a good luck gift for Roman, and I thought you could give it to him before curtain up?”She looks delighted. “Oh, don’t be silly,you’vegot to give it to him!”





	Break A Leg

They arrive at the theatre far too early to take their seats, but Virgil doesn’t mind. At the very least, it’s giving him a chance to actually look around in the foyer, while Logan and Patton queue to get the reserved tickets. He finds a cabinet displaying photos and cut outs of reviews- and he notes with pride that Roman’s name pops up frequently. There’s a lovely candid behind the scenes photo of Rachel and Roman mid-high-five, and Virgil finds himself drawn to it. He can’t help but smile at Roman looking so radiantly happy in the moment. He catches the eye of his own reflection in the glass, and his cheeks warm a little. Sometimes, he thinks he’s so obvious, it’s a wonder the whole campus doesn’t know...

“He _is_  rather adept at professional make-believe, I must admit.”

Virgil glances sideways to see Logan leaning casually against the cabinet. He smirks.

“Thank God Roman can’t hear you. ‘Professional make-believe’? Pretty sure he’d murder you on the spot.”

Logan shrugs. “Worth the risk.”

“It’s not  _just_  that,” Virgil says conversationally. “Have you read Roman’s thesis yet? It’s so cool, it’s like, the power of storytelling and different choices you can make and-” He cuts himself off, realising he’s gushing, and stands up properly.

But, it’s quite obvious that Logan hasn’t been listening to him at all. He’s still leaning against the cabinet, and his eyes have glazed over a little behind his glasses. Virgil follows his gaze, and spies Patton, chatting with the guy behind the box office as he collects the tickets.

Virgil clears his throat, and Logan jumps. 

“Um! Yes. Thesis. Right.” He shakes his head, adjusting his glasses nervously.

And before Virgil can question him, Patton practically skips over with the tickets.

“Hey, hold onto these, would you?” he says, reaching over and popping the tickets into Logan’s front shirt pocket, as easy as anything. “I don’t want to drop them.”

“Oh...okay,” Logan says, a much more delayed response than normal.

“Should we take our seats, then, Virge?” Patton says, seemingly oblivious.

Virgil hums. He doesn’t want to let on why he’s hanging back, still a little self-conscious. What if he-

But then, he remembers Logan’s laughter and reassurances from before, and it helps quieten the nagging doubt.

“Not yet. Let’s...” He searches the foyer and spots a familiar face at the raffle ticket counter. 

He tries to walk over nonchalantly, and thankfully Logan and Patton seem to take the hint, following him. Logan gets in line with Virgil, and Patton ends up chatting again to some people a few places behind them in the queue. Virgil has his sights set on the people selling raffle tickets. 

“Okay, thanks- enjoy the show! Hello, how many ticket-oh, hey,  _Virgil!_ ”

Virgil smiles. “Hi, Rachel.”

She grins, and looks to Logan. “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve-”

“Oh, Logan.” He reaches out to shake her hand, but she holds up her hands to reveal green paint on them. “Sorry, I’m halfway in character!”

Virgil puts two and two together. “Didn’t think they’d have one of the leads working before the show,” he says.

She sticks out her tongue. “You say ‘understaffed’, I say ‘immersive theatre experience.’ So, one sheet of tickets for the both of you?”

“And Patton,” Logan says quickly, gesturing behind them.

Rachel obligingly tears off three strips of tickets. “Ah, I’m going to have to have a word with Roman, then,” she says.

“Huh?” Virgil says. She can’t have read his mind already, surely...

Rachel winks. “He’s left you as a third-wheel, here!”

It takes a moment for the pieces to click, and then Logan’s jaw drops. “I-I beg your pardon?” he sputters.

But Virgil has only one goal in mind right now. “Rachel,” he half-begs, while Logan goes into some state of shock next to him. “Can- can I talk to you?”

Her eyebrows raise. “Sure thing.” She beckons him to the side, and he takes a deep breath, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to bring out the box.

“I just- it’s- it’s a good luck gift for Roman, and I thought you could give it to him before curtain up?”

She looks delighted. “Oh, don’t be silly,  _you’ve_  got to give it to him!” She looks at the box. “Would it be okay for you if I saw or-?”

“Um.” Virgil clears his throat. “Sure, why not.”

He opens up the box and tilts it to show her what’s inside. It’s a long gold chain, with a circular shaped pendant,  _Dancing Through Life_  engraved on it in looping italic font. The ‘i’s are dotted with tiny emerald green gems. Virgil had it custom-made from some obscure site he’d spent ages looking for, agonizing over every little detail of it. He’s still worried that it doesn’t quite match up with the picture he had in his head to begin with.

Rachel gasps, eyes wide, and Virgil is momentarily afraid it’s a gasp of horror, but she’s soon smiling again. “Oh, Virgil! Oh, it’s absolutely  _gorgeous_ , he’ll love it. This way.” 

She grabs him by the hand, too quick for him to remind her about the green paint. Oh, well. Thankfully, his clean hand is left still holding the box. 

Rachel guides him to the long corridor of changing rooms. 

“Third door on the left,” she says.

He swallows. “O-okay. Good-good luck?”

“You’re a sweetheart. I’m going to need it for Defying Gravity, I need Roman’s ability to belt a note there.”

Virgil smiles, grateful that focusing on easing her nerves is distracting him from his own. “You’ll be fine.”

But when she leaves, every worry comes flooding back, and he takes a moment to just breathe through it. He’s interrupted by a guy storming down the corridor, flying monkey wings perched haphazardly on his back.

He looks Virgil up and down, and scowls. “Audience isn’t meant to come back here,” he says. 

It would be really easy to just turn around and walk back the way he came. But, no, fuck this guy, Virgil thinks. He’s planned this for ages, there’s no way anyone’s ruining it.

So, much more bravely than he feels, he stands his ground. “Actually, Rachel said I could come back here. So, here I am. Bye.”

He’s almost at the changing room door when he hears a dark mutter of, “Whatever, Virgil.” He turns around but whoever it was has gone, and Virgil can’t bring it in himself to care about why he knows his name, not when his heart is starting to hammer against his ribs.

He knocks on the door, then rubs his face with his free hand. Only then does he remember the paint.

“Oh, shit-”

Roman opens the door. “It can’t be time yet, I’ve not even heard final call- oh!” He takes a step back, and Virgil sees he’s still putting his costume on, frantically buttoning up a red waistcoat over a white shirt. “Virgil! What are you-”

“I don’t want to keep you,” Virgil says in a rush, holding out the box. “I just- I have- it’s stupid but-”

Roman cuts his rambling short, pulling back the door to give him room. “You’re fine, come in.”

Virgil steps inside. The room is, as expected for Roman, predictably organised chaos, costumes and clothes flung about but still vaguely put into corresponding piles. His heart skips a little as he spies the mirror, where Roman’s stuck pictures of all four of them from various times in the dorm. One is, he’s almost sure, a stupid selfie he once took for a joke on Roman’s phone, but being certain would also mean being obvious and walking over to look.

“I- I like your jacket,” Roman says.

It catches Virgil off-guard, but he resists the instinct to just look down at his feet. “Oh- thanks. You- you’re, um-” He tilts his head. “Your waistcoat’s on inside out,” he says, without thinking, and could kick himself.

Roman turns, if possible, redder than the waistcoat. He looks down at it. “You’re right-eh, woops?” He quickly fixes it, then nods at Virgil’s box. “So, what’s that?”

Virgil presses the box into his hand. “It’s- look, it’s not a big thing, it’s just a good luck thing, like, I know it’s your last show so you don’t technically need luck, not, um, that you  _ever_ needed luck but-”

“For... for me?”

Virgil stares at him. “Of course it’s for you.”

Roman’s blush that had faded slightly, returns in force. “Oh. Wow, um. Thanks, Virgil, you didn’t- you didn’t need to get me anything!”

Virgil scoffs. “Don’t thank me too soon, you might hate it.”

“How could I ever hate something you-” Roman opens the lid, and his eyes widen. “Oh my  _God_. Virgil. It’s-”

“I-I can return it if you-”

“You’ll do no such thing! Virgil, it’s  _beautiful_.” Before Virgil can even reply, Roman has wrapped him up into a fierce hug. “Thank you, so so  _so_ much, times a thousand, times infinity-”

Virgil laughs into Roman’s shoulder. “Yeah, I get it. I’m... I’m glad you like it.”

They stay like that for a few long moments. To some perhaps it isn’t the most ideal hug- Virgil can feel Roman’s jittery pre-performance nerves rolling off him, and the smell of stage make-up is over-powering but... who cares. To him, this is perfect.

The tannoy sparks into life, and they jump in unison. “Attention cast, this is your five minute call. This is your five minute call. Thank you.”

Virgil steps back. “Shit. I’d better go.”

“Wait!” Roman is taking the pendant out of the box. “I can never work these damned clasp things, could you put it on for me?”

“You want to wear it  _now?_ ” Virgil says, surprised and touched.

Roman raises an eyebrow, giving him a look that Virgil can only translate as  _Well, **duh**_. He smiles.

“Turn around, then,” he says quietly. Roman does so, and Virgil carefully puts the pendant on around his neck, making sure the clasp doesn’t catch his hair. His hands are a bit unsteady, but at least Roman can’t see. “Well, um...” He clears his throat, and squeezes Roman’s shoulder. “Break a... leg, I guess? Is that the right- or is it arm? Anyway, I’d better-”

_Oh, God, could you **be**  more awkward?_

Roman stops him just as he’s opening the door. “Virgil, wait!”

Virgil turns. “Yeah?”

Roman leans forward. His thumb brushes gently over Virgil’s cheek, and he draws back, revealing the green paint on it. 

“Purple goes good with green,” he says softly. He’s smiling, cheeks still tinged with pink.

Then, other doors are opening, cast spilling out into the corridor. Virgil gets jostled back into the crowd. 

“Text me what seat you’re in!” he hears Roman call, but he barely hears it over the thought of:  _He could have kissed me then._


End file.
